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Little Boy Philosophy 



By 

S. Maria Talbot 



Published hj 

George D. Talbot 

Denver, Colo. 



To the spirit of Childhood haunting the sacred places of 
every life 



©CI.A327717 



PREFACE 

From the various magazines where they have appeared, 
this collection of ''Little Boy'' poems has 'been made in 
response to the earnest request of the friends of the beloved 
Denver author, S. Maria Talbot. 

Grateful acknowledgment is given to the periodicals into 
which the Little Boy has laughed his way, especially to the 
Editors of Lippincotfs and the Reader, who first fell captive 
to his tender humor. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



♦ ♦ 



OPPOSITE PAGE 

" 'Cause I am twins, dear Santy Claus" 13 v^ 

'Tm awful sorry, God, fer You" 17 ^ 

"I wisht I wasn't who I am" 20 ' 

"Say, God, I wisht You'd take her back" 22 ^ 

"It's all made up! Cosette an' me" 24 '' 

"So seven times nine ain't sixty-three" 26 ' 

"When Mamma kisses me good-night" 29 * 

"I was so dead with sleep" 32 v 

"I got so mad! '01' chap!' sez I" 34^ 

"An' never had no fun a-Sunday, but to set about" 36^ 



CONTENTS 



♦I* ♦> 



PAGE 

The Little Boy Pools Santa Glaus 13 

The Little Boy Ponders 14 

The Little Boy's Summer Prayer 15 

The Little Boy Speculates 19 

The Little Boy's Rebellion 20 

The Little Boy's Baby Prayer 22 

The Little Boy Changes His Polities 23 

The Little Boy Reminisces 25 

The Little Boy's Confession 27 

The Little Boy Wonders 30 

The Little Boy Visits Grandma 31 

The Little Boy's Confidence 34 

The Little Boy Is Reassured 35 

The Little Boy Is Lost 37 



COVER DESIGN AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
FREDERICK L. CAVALLY, JR. 

ASSISTED BY HIS SON 
ROBERT NEIL 

Model 



Little Boy Philosophy 



COPYRIGHT. 1912. BY MARY TALBOT CAMPBELL 



THE SMITH-BROOKS PRESS. DENVER 




'Cavse I am timns, dear ^anty (JlauH^ 



THE LITTLE BOY FOOLS SANTA GLAUS. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Dear Santy: 

I m the little boy 

At number flve-six-four. 
In front you'll see my black bull pup — 

The name is on the door. 
Please bring me loads an' loads o' things, 

When Christmas comes this year, 
'Cause I have had the measles an' 

A risin' in my ear. 

An', Santy, if you'll be so good, 

Bring toys enough fer two, 
'Cause I am twins, dear Santy Claus, 

An' less 'an 'at won't do. 
But don't bring more 'an one alike; 

Fer w^e kin swap, you see. 
An' mark 'em "Billy" — I will 'vide 

Ez fair ez fair kin be. 

Page Thirteen 



THE LITTLE BOY PONDERS. 






I wonder who "Great Caesar-' is, 
'Cause he is Papa's chum; 

He always has to call on him 
Whenever things are bum. 

An' Mamma's very bestes' frien', 
She talks 'bout him a lot, 

'S another man that's mighty big — 
His name it is "Great Scott." 

I wisht Great Scott an' Caesar, too, 
Would happen jest to meet 

An' have a reg'lar SuU'van fight — 
I bet Great Scott 'ud beat ! 



Page Fourteen 



THE LITTLE BOY'S SUMMER PRAYER. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Dear God, my Mamma's gone away 

A nice long ocean trip. 
I wisht You'd keep Your sharpest eye 

On that particular ship. 
The sea is big, the boat is small, 

An' Mamma's careless as — 
As if she wa'nt the only one 

A little feller has. 

An' I'm her onl'est little boy. 

She ast me to be good, 
An' pray to God fer her an' me. 

O' course, I said I would; 
So here I be, dear Lord o' Love, 

Right by my trundle-bed, 
A-wishin' I could hoi' Your hand 

An' hear the words You said. 



Page Fifteen 



Say, God, I think You need a trip 

The very worstest way. 
If I was You, I'd cut it out, 

This workin' ever' day, 
A-makin' such a lot o' folks. 

An' markin' sparrers fall. 
An' countin' hairs of ever' head— 

The curly ones an' all ; 

A-stickin' in the stars an' moon, 

An' turnin' on the rain, 
An' taggin' after all of us, 

An' tendin' to the grain. 
'Twould rest You lots to quit a while 

From bein' quite so good, 
An' be a lot more sociabler ; 

I'd like it — if You could. 



Page Sixteen 




7'?n. rnvfid sorry, God, fer Yoti' 



You'd like to ketch a speckled trout, 

An' swimmin's lots o' fun, 
An' goin' to your Grandma's house — 

But, pshaw ! You ain't got none ! 
I'm awful sorry, God, fer You, 

'At ain't had any Ma 
To love You hard as ever was, 

Ner yit a bully Pa. 

As I was first a-sayin'. Lord, 

Take care of Mamma's ship ! 
If You could shove October next 

To August by a slip. 
My Ma would come a-sailin' home 

By guidin' of Your hand, — 
But please do keep a sharp lookout 

Till she is safe to land ! 



Page Seventeen 



An' once I git her back to shore, 

You needn't bother so; 
Fer me an' Pa will watch her close 

Wherever she do go. 
An', say, if You should sometime think 

O' callin' folks away, 
Call Jimmy Jones's Pa an' Ma, 

An' let my home folks stay. 




Page Eighteen 



THE LITTLE BOY SPECULATES. 



♦I* ♦!♦ ♦> 



I wonder how it is I think, 
An' how God makes me grow, 

An' why He made me Mamma's boy, 
'Stid of some boys I know. 

I'd ruther be jest who I am, 

'Cause I am uset to me; 
I wouldn't be so comftable, 

No other way could be. 

I sort o' feel like Pa and Ma 

Is jest the only kind 
'At I could stand a-bossin' me. 

Or ever I would mind. 



Page Ninetee7i 



THE LITTLE BOY'S REBELLION. 



»> ♦> ♦> 



I wisht I wasn't who I am ; 

I'd like to change to Dutch, 
Or better yit to a Chinee, 

Or other awful such. 
It's ^^Billy here" an' ^^Billy there," 

An' ''Billy, don't do thatr 
Till, honest Injun, I would like 

To be a alley cat. 

Then I could jump, an' scratch, an' yowl. 

An' climb, an' set up nights, 
An' he myself — ^you bet I'd have 

The bulliest kind o' fights ! 
If I was Dutch, an' Papa ast. 

Eight 'fore the bloomin' house, 
^^How much is nine times six, my boy?" 

I'd say "Nixcumerous." 



Page Twenty 




'7 ivisJit I loasn't lolio I am'' 



They can't make me a pattern boy- 

I wouldn't if I could; 
I'm pretty near all frazzled out 

A-tryin' to be good ; 
The wonder is I'm livin' yit — 

My folks they nag me so, 
To "make a little man" of me, 

'At I can't hardly grow. 




Page Twenty-one 



THE LITTLE BOY'S BABY PRAYER. 
♦ ♦ ♦ 

Dear God, I need You awful bad ! 

I don't know what to do ! 
My Papa's cross, my Mamma's sick ; 

I hain't no fren' but You. 
Them keerless angels went an' brung, 

'Stid of the boy I ast, 
A weenchy^ teenchy baby girl — 

I don't see how they dast ! 

Say, God, I wisht Y'ou'd take her back — 

She's jest as good as new; 
Won't no one know she's secon'-hand, 

But 'ceptin' me an' You; 
An' pick a boy, dear God, Yourself — 

The nicest in Yer fold. 
But please don't choose him quite so young- 

I'd like him five years old. 

Page Twenty-two 




''Say, God, I ivisht You'd take her hack'' 



THE LITTLE BOY CHANGES HIS 

POLITICS. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Me an' Cosette we wuz engaged, 

An' I will tell you why 
The 'gagement is all busted up — 

It makes me like ter cry ! 
She said she was a 'Publican, 

An' me a Dimmycrat; 
It wouldn't do to marry with 

Things all mixed up like that. 

She's a ongratef ul girl, she is ! 

I alwus let her beat 
A-runnin' races, 'cause, you see. 

She wuz so awful sweet. 
I tried to like the other kids — 

Elise, an' Maud, an' Rose ; 
But, pshaw ! they all are "fraidy cats," 

A-scared they'll tear their clo'es. 



Page Twenty-three 



It's all made up ! Cosette an' me 

Has Pollytieks, you see, 
Like Uncle Bill's — we're Sociabliste ; 

An' now she plays with me. 
The Sociablists is awful nice, 

They sheer one 'nother's joys; 
Cosette has got my setter dog, 

An' all my bestes' toys. 




Pac/e Twenty 'fovr 




"7fs all made up! Cosette an' me" 



THE LITTLE BOY REMINISCES. 



♦> ♦> ♦> 



I 'member weeks 'fore I was borned, 

I cried like all the worP, 
A-scared I wouldn't be a boy, 

But only jest a girl. 
I'm awful glad I turned out right, 

'Cause boys has lots o' fun, 
An' girls they can't be president— 

I think 'at I'll be one. 

An' if I do, you bet I'll have 

Right on the pantry shelf 
Big jars o' candy red an' white, 

So I kin help myself; 
An' I will wallup Teacher Green, 

An' burn his schoolhouse down — 
He said I was the wussest boy 

In all the bloomin' town. 



Page Twenty-five 



The multiplication table shall 

By congruss be revised 
So seven times nine ain't sixty-three- 

Won't people be surprised? 
An' addin' all shall be by fives, 

'At gallup up so nice ; 
An' all the folks what send the bills 

Shall add the paymints twice. 




Page Twenty -six 



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''So seven times nine ain't sixty-three" 



THE LITTLE BOY'S CONFESSION. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Dear God, I've quit Your Sunday school. 

Please 'scuse me if I did ! 
They said they^d give a Bible to 

The regularest kid, 
An' he must read a hour a day, 

An' learn it o'er an' o'er 
'Bout Aberham an' all them coves — 

I can't go there no more. 

An' I have been a naughty boy — 

At leas' so Mamma said, 
An' made me ast Y'ou to forgive, 

Before I go to bed. 
Because I fit with Billy Green 

An' jabbed him in the eye. 
An' say I'm sorry — but I ain't ! 

You'd know it was a lie ! 



Page Twenty-seveti 



But wimmins they can^t un'erstan' 

The hearts o' little boys, 
Like You, dear God, 'at made 'em so 

They like to make a noise, 
An' scrap, an' fuss, an' start a row, 

An' say "I seen" an' ^^done," 
Like all the bestes' fellers do — 

I think it's lots o' fun. 

Oh, help me to be patient, God I 

With Mamma's queer idees 
'Bout langwidge has to be so nice. 

An' always sayin' "Please !" 
She can't be manly like we boys, 

'Cause she is jest a girl — 
I wouldn't be one fer the cash 

There is in all the worF. 



Page Twenty-eight 




'Wfica Ma nun a kisses me (jood-nujh I" 



All girls is good fer is to grow 

To mammas by an' by ; 
The feller Avhat don't like 'em then 

Is jest a awful guy. 
When Mamma kisses me good-night, 

It kind o' seems like You 
Was standin' with her by the bed, 

A-lovin' of me, too. 

So watch me while I'm fast asleep, 

Until the break o' day; 
Then I can scuffle fer myself. 

If You are called away. 




Page Twenty-nine 



THE LITTLE BOY WONDERS. 
♦♦♦ ♦♦♦ ♦> 

I wonder how I go to sleep ! 

It's mighty queer to me 
-At I can't never stay awake 

Quite long enough to see. 

What if a feller should wake up 
An' be some other chap, 

A-cuddlin' an' a-rockin' in 
Some other mamma's lap ! 

It's lucky Pa an' Ma an' me 
Ain't never got us mixed — 

We couldn't be more happier 
No ways it could be fixed. 



Page Thirty 



THE LITTLE BOY VISITS GRANDMA. 
♦ ♦ ♦ 

Dear God, now summer's comin' on, 

Please 'sense me from my prayer, 
'Cause me an' Pa an' Mamma, too, 

Is fixin' to go where 
There ain't no sign ^'^Keep off the grass" — 

Down to my Gran'ma Howe's; 
An' where they don't have wagon milk, 

But milk it from the cows. 

I'll have such lots an' lots ter do, 

A-wadin' in the brook, 
An' roUin' down the haystacks — token 

My Mamma doesn^t look — 
An' ridin' horses with the men. 

When they go doAvn ter drink ; 
I'll be so busy with it all 

'At I can't hardly think. 



Page Thirty-one 



There's Jimmy Brown^ he never prays. 

An' he ain't good a bit ; 
He goes a swimmin' Sundays, God, 

An' he ain't drownded yit ! 
But I have said my ^^lay me" when 

I was so dead with sleep 
I mixed "the power an' glory" in 

Along with "soul to keep." 

'Sides, Gran'pa Howe is awful good 

The mornin' prayers ter say; 
While Gran'ma tiptoes 'roun' so soft 

Ter shoo the hens away, 
An' see 'at breakf us' doesn't burn ; 

While Gran'pa 'splains ter You 
About them "sparks 'at up'ards fly," 

An' tells You what ter do. 



Page Thirty -two 




'7 was so dead with sleep'' 



Dear God, please let the fambly pray-r 

Be all I have ter pray — 
There ain't no danger ner no harm, 

The place where we all stay ; 
But when Jack Fros' comes nippin' toes, 

An' we go back ter town, 
I'll need You then the wussest way, 

An' say my ^^lay me down." 




Page Thirty-three 



THE LITTLE BOY'S CONFIDENCE. 
♦♦♦ ♦♦♦ ♦♦♦ 

SaVj Pa, a big, bad man to-day, 

'At had a awful gun, 
He called me names, 'at naughty man- 

You bet I didn't run I 
He said I was "a angel child," 

An' ast me fer a curl. 
I wisht my hair was cutted oil — 

I look jes' like a girl. 

I got so mad ! ^^01' chap !" sez I, 

"Now don't ye fool Aviv me I" 
"I'll shoot a hole into a^ou, kid !'' 

'At horrid man, sez 'e, 
" 'At's big enough to f row a cat 

Plum froo — an' kill you dead." 
'^ Where is the cat?^^ I ast the man — 

An' 'at Avas all I said. 



Page Thirty-four 




"7 got so mad! 'OV chapF sez I" 



THE LITTLE BOY IS REASSURED. 
♦ ♦ ♦> 

Say, Papa, God had better stuff 

Fer makin' little boys 
When you was young; fer Gran'ma says 

You never made a noise, 
Ner quarreled none, ner raised a row, 

But minded — ^jest as nice ! 
An' wiped yer feet, an' tiptoed roun' 

As quiet as the mice. 

She says you never told a lie, 

An' never had no fun 
A- Sunday, but to set about, 

The very stillest one. 
I never can be good like you, 

'Cause God hain't made me so; 
I do the very naughtj^ things 

You didn't do, you know. 



Page Thirty-five 



^^Thank Heaven, my boy/' the father cried, 

^^That you are not like me ! 
For Grandma has forgot, my son. 

Just how I used to be. 
God's stuff for making little boys 

Is number one, O. K., 
And you're the manliest little chap 

That's in His world to-day." 




Page Thirty-six 





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'*An' never had no fun a-Stuiday, but to set ahouf 



THE LITTLE BOY IS LOST. 
♦ ♦ ♦ 

What has become of Billy? 

Our hearts are like to break 
A-missin' of the mischief 

An' noise he used to make. 

His checkered blouse so tiny 
Hangs in the closet yet 

That mother fondly kisses, 
Because she can't forget. 

When parents are a-callin' 
Their children in at night, 

It makes us both feel choky, 
An' teardrops dim our sight. 



Page Thirty-seven 



Sometimes I write a letter 
To William Grey, D.D., 

An' I feel downright tickled 
When he writes one to me. 

We're proud as can be of him, 
An' he ain't none to blame 

Because we grieve for "Billy" 
An' mourn him jest the same. 




Page Thirty -eight 



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BINDERY INC. |§| 

# DEC 88 
N. MANCHESTER, 
INDIANA 46962 



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